Finding John
by Mrs.Arionasparrow
Summary: Sequel to Adventure of the Forgotten Birthday How Holmes found the present


After several months in direct entanglement with the case of Lord Xander, I had forgotten that dear Watson's birthday was the very next day. I couldn't, for all my considerable knowledge, figure what to get the man, or what I could even acquire that early in the morning. So deep were thoughts, that I was not cognizant of the fact that I had picked up my violin and lulled the bow across the strings. As was my method, I didn't play an authentic tune, but an assortment of incomparable notes that seemed to wake the stricken doctor.

He didn't make his appearance with a good countenance, instead crying, "Holmes, for the love of God, have some mercy!" as he stormed into parlor. I must consent to the fact that, being as entrenched in the music as I was, I found myself quite confused as to Watson's meaning.

"What's the matter, Watson?"

"It's FOUR in the morning, and I'm ill! Could this please wait until tomorrow?" I will admit that, for no other reason than to gauge his reaction, I raised a brow and stated;

"It is tomorrow, my dear fellow," and began to play again. It was then I saw something materialize in his stature that, at last, ignited my cerebrum as to what I could procure.

A bull dog pup.

Suddenly, whilst I was considering my epiphany, Watson seized my Stradivarius and the bow, looking rather smug. "Now see here!" I snarled.

"No! You see here!" he barked back, "I am sick with the flu, and for two days, I've allowed myself to be tortured by your methods! One night's sleep, Holmes, that's all I ask for, one night." Before I could respond that it was no longer night, therefore rendering his request moot, he stalked from the room, growling.

With my violin.

I pondered picking the lock to his room and retaking my instrument, but came to the realization that I did not have the time to waste if I was to acquire the pup before my comrade's next rising. I donned my coat and hat before braving the London morning air

in the search of a gift. I roamed the streets, searching for a vendor I had seen the day prior, when I had witnessed Mrs. Hudson buying those blasted bull dog cufflinks I'd seen Watson eyeing in a way he thought was discreet. It was child's play tracking down the supplier, but the puppies were to be bought at quite a ridiculous price.

"My good man, there is no conceivable way that these flea bitten mongrels are worth a tenth of your price!"

"Now, sir, these purebred pups are the finest in town!"

"How very doubtful," I returned, "That pup has a spaniel's nose, this one is part basset hound, they, all of them, are mutts!" the peddler began to declaim, brandishing his arms in a half-hazard, supposedly imposing, manner. I, having been thwarted in my attempts at appropriating a suitable present, let my thoughts wonder to alternatives. Mrs. Hudson may be deserving of the status of the second woman to ever outwit me for acquiring the one item that could be adequate enough! It was that moment, or a second before, that I saw the pup out of the corner of my peripheral vision. It was a grubby stray, but it, he, had blue eyes, and was diligently protecting a small bird from a tomcat.

"Hsssst!" the cat heard my hiss, and sprinted off, no longer determined to ensnare the avian. The bird, an _Apus apus, _took flight immediately, no longer having need for the Watson-esque dog's protection. The pup 'harrumphed' and seated itself on the pavement to sulk. I gave a short whistle, which caused him to whip around and scrutinize me. "I assure you, old boy, the one you are intended for has yet to figure me out, I highly doubt you will." The bull pup sneezed, then approached me and wagged his tail. I was amused for a moment at the thought of how Watson acted before one of our adventures, and how definitive this dog's imitation of him was. In short order he was clean and collared(it is quite unfortunate that dog collars do not come starched) and we were on our way home.

Upon entering 221 Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson greeted me and informed me the doctor was up and had received his present(and was quite happy with it, she'd said with a smirk). I nodded to her and transferred the puppy to her grasp as I ascended the steps and threw the door open.

"Terribly sorry about last night, old chap," said I, throwing my coat in the corner in retaliation of the first stolen gift, "I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out a suitable present for you, since our dear land lady beat me to the cufflinks."

"Is that what you have been pondering about so hard?" he pondered, tilting his head in a way reminiscent of the pup.

"Indeed, and when you confiscated my violin last night, growling like a dog, I figured out your present. MRS. HUDSON!" I cried, startling the good doctor. He seemed rather shocked to see the bull dog dash in before the Scottish woman. "I propose we name him John," was added for my own enjoyment.

"Holmes, uh, thank you!"

"It was my pleasure, my dear friend. Happy birthday."

"Thank you, Holmes."

An Apus apus is a 'swift' .


End file.
